Earth to Bella, Part Two
by hoh-hey
Summary: Let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater. Bella Goth isn't where she's supposed to be. A tragedy in two Acts.


I don't know, I just have a lot of feels okay.

I do not own The Sims.

* * *

She stands at the corner of the porch, her arms wrapped around herself. The night is dark. There is no moon tonight shining upon the desert; all she can see is stars. She shivers. She does not want to look upward; that is where they are. Instead, she looks out. Lights dance in the distance; it is the Road to Nowhere as it curves into its dead end at the top of the bluff. An engine backfires far off into the distance; a Teen laughs and the sound carries farther than it should. They are at H&M Strangetown on the main drag and they are blissfully unaware of the woman watching them, always watching, because they are there and she isn't—

"Bella?"

The woman is startled from her thoughts. She turns from her silent vigil on the expansive front porch at 101 Road to Nowhere, and finds her housemate Jenny Smith standing in the door, looking from behind the screen.

"Bella, what are you doing out here? It's much too cold tonight."

The other woman opens the door, beckoning. Behind her the light and warmth of the house spill out onto the dark night. Bella turns, because she knows instinctively that Jenny is only trying to help and only has her best interests at heart, and always has.

"There, there, that's a girl."

Bella moves haltingly towards the other woman, keeping her shoulders hunched against the night's chill.

"You forgot your jacket again, Bella," Jenny chides as she pulls the door open wide and Bella slumps through. She reaches out a comforting hand and helps the Elder through the door with a sturdy hand on Bella's elbow. "It really is getting to be too cold for you to stand on the porch and go watching. Come on, let's have a cup of tea."

She leads Bella through the house to the kitchen, hand firmly grasped on her elbow and the two take halting, shuffling steps on the polished wood floor. Bella looks around at the pictures on the walls, at the knicks and knacks like she's never seen them before. She finds it hard to focus on anything.

Jenny Smith's husband is there waiting for her in the kitchen. A single bulb glares from above the stove and his skin almost looks normal in this light. He looks up from the newspaper as the two women step into the kitchen.

"She was out again?"

His voice is low and guttural and his Simlish, while grammatically perfect, seems to miss a few inflections.

"Watching the stars, weren't we, Bella?" Jenny coos. Her voice is not patronizing. Bella wants to scream. Stars? No, she was not watching the stars she was watching the ground she knows what's out there let me watch the dirt. Her hands grip and ungrip her elbows but like always, she does not speak.

Jenny's husband sighs. "Sit here, Bella." He offers her the chair but soon after she is sitting he finds himself pacing to the refrigerator and looking out of the window adjacent. Then he comes back and sits next to her. There was no light in the darkness, so he is not worried.

Jenny putters around and hands Bella a mug; she stares at it blankly as the tea is filled and then takes a small sip, daintily. But soon the mug is on the table and Jenny is idly washing her own mug and her husband is flipping idly past the comics and into the sports section.

Bella can't ever put her finger on it, but nothing about the scene is ever quite right. Pollination Tech#9 reads the newspaper at night, instead of in the morning, and Jenny Smith serves him breakfast during the day. She herself sits with a blanket, staring at a mug full of tea that she hardly ever drinks, and none of them confront the elephant in the room; none of them ever say to each other that Bella doesn't belong here, even though they all know why, and none of them ever say to each other that it should be put to right, and they end up doing this every night.

It is time for bed and as Jenny tucks Bella in her husband stands at the door. Bella closes her eyes and pretends to sleep like every night and Jenny pretends that doesn't bother her. She leaves the door open a crack like always and the light from the hall shines onto the far wall and just a bit onto Bella's face on the bed.

"I'm worried about her, Polly," Jenny tells her husband. Her hand lingers on the doorknob to Bella's room and for a moment she blocks the light and it is truly dark in Bella's room and her face cannot be seen.

"Why is that?" He asks. Through her eyelashes, Bella can almost see those pupil-less black eyes, so much like a frog, or a toad.

"I'm just wondering if it wasn't a mistake. Bringing her in? I know that many carry on normal lives but it doesn't seem like Bella is getting any better. I think she's gotten worse…"

"Jenny, it's best we don't talk about this right now."

Their voices trail off as they move back down the stairs. Bella's eyes open and she looks at the ceiling and traces the patterns that the cars make as they drive by.

"Muh…"

It's a raspy whisper, and she almost does not recognize it from the smooth practiced Simlish she used to have. She used to sing. Oh, the sound of her voice, and the practiced clinks of her piano! How he loved them. He is all she can think about.

"Muh-muh-muh-muh-muh."

She cannot do more, but it is the only time she has to practice. "Muhhhhooooorrrrrt" is again all she can manage tonight and then she clutches at her throat, gasping for air.

* * *

"Muh. Muhhhhort."

Pollination Tech#9 stares over the top of his newspaper at Bella. She cannot look him in the eye, and he almost narrows his own like a Sim does when they are confused.

"What did you say?"

Jenny has dropped her fork. She reaches out and places a comforting hand on Bella's own.

"That's wonderful, Bella," she remarks, and her smile is wide and genuine. "Can you tell me again?"

Bella shakes her head. She shouldn't have said anything, but she couldn't help it. He was on her mind and her mouth burst without permission.

Pollination Tech#9 does not drop his gaze.

* * *

The night is quiet. Bella is 84 Days Old today. An afternoon party with most of their close neighbors and friends that even General Buzz Grunt attended sent Bella to bed early. This time, it is Pollination Tech#9 who does the rounds, checking on Bella every couple of hours or so, like customary. She is sleeping soundly, so he does not bother her. He almost misses the sounds she makes when she practices her voice.

Jenny stands at the kitchen sink again, absently wiping imaginary dirt off a coffee mug. It is strange to see how much of a routine it has become. She cannot imagine when they haven't been in this room, every night in the hot summer sun, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper and staring blankly at the void outside of the window. Soon, Bella will be gone, and she will have no one to care for again.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Jenny turns, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder out of habit. She smiles warmly at the sight of her green-skinned husband. He has returned from checking on Bella for the last time that night and soon they will retire themselves.

She puts the mug away and looks from Pollination Tech#9 to the dishwasher as it hums thoughtfully to itself.

"I'm going to miss her."

He understands what she means and stands quietly in the doorway, eyes always watching.

"She's already 84 Days old, Polly," Jenny adds. "And we're not getting any younger either. It's almost like she's a part of the family. When…Polly, when it happens, I'd like to put her in the plot next to mother."

He doesn't say anything.

Jenny turns and puts the coffee mug down in the sink drainer, letting the water drip drip drip into the drain. When she turns off the light in the kitchen it is so dark that for a moment she actually sees the light in Pollination Tech#9's eyes.

* * *

"_Mortimer." _

It is all they put on her tombstone, because they're not even sure if Bella was her real name.


End file.
